


Accepted, Not Forgiven

by fuzipenguin



Series: Pettiness and Consequences [4]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Angst, Confrontations, Established Relationship, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Other, Parent-Child Relationship, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-25 22:02:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20919323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzipenguin/pseuds/fuzipenguin
Summary: Sideswipe and Sunstreaker make a decision about Jazz. Is it the right one?





	Accepted, Not Forgiven

**Author's Note:**

> This is another pretty emotional installment and the end to the series. Readers may disagree with how this situation ends (or maybe like it, that's up to each person), but there are a lot of factors involved with the twins' decision. Hopefully the two of them explained themselves well.

The twins were getting to be good at avoiding anyone with rank. Even when asked, they refused to come to anyone’s office. Ratchet had flat out forbidden anyone to order them. Shaken by what Jazz had done, no one had argued.

Which was why Wheeljack had resorted to a stakeout after Bumblebee had alerted him that the twins had entered one of the lesser frequented washracks. It took about forty minutes, but it was worth the wait when they finally exited. Wheeljack had carefully positioned himself so that he wasn’t blocking the end of the hallway that led to both their quarters and the public areas of the ship. But he also stood in such a way that they had to interact with him to get by.

“Hi, ‘Jack,” Sideswipe said, taking a reflexive step backwards at the sight of Wheeljack. He warily raised his chin and squared his shoulders, otherwise going very still. “Getting washed up?”

“No, actually. I was waiting to speak to you both,” Wheeljack said. Sideswipe’s optics went a little wide, and Sunstreaker immediately angled his body between his twin and Wheeljack.

“We got nothing to say to you,” Sunstreaker said, his voice full of warning. His armor slowly lifted in a clear aggressive display, and Wheeljack hunched his shoulders, trying to appear small. It wasn’t easy when he was practically the same size as them.

“That’s fine! It’s more that I think there’s something you should see.” Wheeljack held up his data pad and waggled it in the air.

For a moment they stared at it, confused.

“What are you talking about?” Sideswipe finally asked, his natural curiosity winning over.

“After you left Medical yesterday…” Wheeljack began, but he went quiet and shrunk back against the wall when Sunstreaker’s engine gave an angry rev, his hands curling into fists.

Sideswipe reached out a hand and laid it on his brother’s shoulder, restraining him. “Yeah, what about it?” Sideswipe challenged, the tiny quaver in his voice belaying his outwardly confident appearance.

“Ratchet called an emergency meeting. Said something had happened to you. Jazz… Jazz confessed,” Wheeljack explained, flinching back again when Sunstreaker took a menacing step forward. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry he did that to you. It wasn’t right. But that’s not what I came to you about. I wanted you to watch this video of the meeting; it’s from one of Red Alert’s cameras.”

Wheeljack clicked on the video and turned the datapad around, lifting it higher so the twins could see. The screen was relatively small, so Wheeljack tamped down the instinctive urge to slink down the hall when they took a few steps closer.

_“You’re going to fix it?” _Ratchet’s voice growled out in the video_. “You’re going to _fix_ it? How can you actually fix this?! He _flinched_. He flinched when _Optimus_ touched him… when_ I_ touched him!!” _

Wheeljack raised his optics, seeing Sunstreaker’s expression soften as he watched. Next to him, Sideswipe blinked rapidly, a tremor running through his frame. 

_“Do you have _any_ idea what they’ve been through? They were _slaves_ in the Pits! They had been _sold_ to their Pit owner when they were barely old enough to be considered younglings!” _Ratchet continued.

Sideswipe whined in the back of his throat and hid his face against Sunstreaker’s shoulder, clutching his brother’s arm. Sunstreaker seemingly moved on autopilot, stroking the side of Sideswipe’s helm as his gaze remained fixed on the screen.

_ “How many times did someone take advantage of them, ignore their consent? We’re supposed to be better than that! _You’re _supposed to be better than that! You broke their trust in us… in _me!_ And I practically _raised_ them once they left that Primus-forsaken place… _

_ Jazz, you can’t just wave a hand and fix something like this. You forced one of my… one of my _children_…you essentially _raped_ him… and I’m going to fragging _kill_ you for it!” _

Wheeljack winced at the loud crash, remembering how Ratchet and Jazz had fallen to the floor all tangled together. He had been frozen in place, not knowing what he should do. Separate the two or let his best friend try and continue to try and kill one of their comrades?

Even after a day, he felt sick to his tanks; he hadn’t invested as much time and energy into Sideswipe and Sunstreaker as Ratchet had when they’d been found, but he’d been in their periphery due to his friendship with Ratchet. Wheeljack still considered them kids.

“Oh, Primus,” Sideswipe gasped, sounding wrecked. Wheeljack looked up and saw Sideswipe slowly backing up. “_Primus_, I gotta…I gotta go.”

He darted away, Sunstreaker still avidly watching the datapad and barely seeming to acknowledge his twin’s departure. Apparently forgetting his earlier hostility, Sunstreaker stepped in close and took the datapad from Wheeljack. His fingers shook as he finished watching the video clip, it ending with Ironhide shoving Jazz through the meeting room door.

For a moment, Sunstreaker was silent. Then he toggled the off switch and placed the device in his subspace. Wheeljack didn’t protest; he had thought they might want a copy.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, his expression pained. “I told him Ratchet would never… but he just didn’t want to be put in a situation where it was even possible.”

Wheeljack nodded, although he personally didn’t understand. How could either Sideswipe or Sunstreaker ever think Ratchet would hurt them after everything he had done for them? Yet Wheeljack knew trauma sometimes manifested in contradictory reactions.

“I just… I just couldn’t bear the idea of either of you not trusting Ratchet.”

“No. No, you’re right. It was good for him to see that. I think he’s about to crawl into Ratchet’s lap as we speak,” Sunstreaker said, giving a weak laugh before clearing his intake. “What… what’s going to happen?”

“We’re still discussing it. Jazz is in the brig though, so you might want to avoid that part of the ship,” Wheeljack suggested. Sunstreaker nodded and looked down at his pedes.

“Yeah… ok. Uh, listen… I looked at Sides’ memories,” Sunstreaker said, raising his head after a moment. He shifted restlessly before crossing his arms over his chest. “Jazz was an idiot, but it wasn’t like he… you know… actually _forced _him. He didn’t hold a gun to his head or anything. So don’t go killing him.”

“We wouldn’t,” Wheeljack automatically replied, although he couldn’t exactly be 100% positive about that, not after Ratchet’s reaction yesterday. “But… but Sunstreaker, just because there wasn’t physical force doesn’t mean that Jazz still didn’t place Sideswipe in a difficult position. It was an abuse of his rank, even if Jazz is telling the truth and wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“No, no you’re right, I know that. I just…” Sunstreaker sighed and looked off down the hallway. He seemed to struggle to find the right words. “People have done… a lot of bad things in the name of war… Jazz forgetting that he’s an officer is not the worst of them.”

“You sound like you want to forgive him and forget about it all,” Wheeljack replied, confused.

Sunstreaker made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat and shook his head. “We’ll never forget it. Forgive him… who knows? But that’s on us, not…” he gestured at Wheeljack and beyond. “I’m just saying that there are other things that the entire primary command team could sit around and discuss. We’re not exactly high on the totem pole of importance.”

Wheeljack stared at the frontliner for a long moment, his mouth open behind his mask. Then he took a step forward, reaching out to lightly touch the back of Sunstreaker’s wrist. Sunstreaker stilled before glancing down at Wheeljack’s fingers with wide optics. Wheeljack hurriedly snatched his hand back but didn’t move away.

“Each and every one of the Autobots are important, Sunstreaker,” Wheeljack said earnestly. “Who are we if we can’t keep each other safe and watch each other’s backs? If we don’t do that, then we’re essentially the ‘cons.

“You might have wanted this to have been handled between the three of you, but that cat’s out of the bag now. And we’re not stuffing it back in… you don’t have to deal with this alone anymore. ”

Sunstreaker didn’t back away either, but he did duck his head again, fidgeting in place. “Ok,” he said quietly. “… ok.”

\--

** Hey… incoming**.

Ratchet’s head shot up at the short comm from Sunstreaker, his spark leaping into his throat with eagerness. But then the line disconnected, and Sunstreaker wouldn’t accept any of his attempts at opening another between them.

What had Sunstreaker meant? If an attack was happening, the entire ship would know about it. And he would have been privately contacted by Prowl or Prime to discuss the depth of Medical’s role.

Utterly confused, Ratchet stood up from his desk and started towards the door of his office. Halfway there, he heard the Bay’s double doors crash open and then Hoist give a startled shout from the main floor. Battle programs pinging to life, Ratchet went on high alert, reaching for the blaster in his subspace.

He never actually laid fingers on it, some instinct staying his hand as he listened to the sound of running pedesteps coming closer. Something about their cadence and the odd noise that accompanied them made him think that the person heading for his office was absolutely no threat.

Ratchet stepped out into the hall just in time to witness a flash of crimson ricochet around the corner and run straight for him. The sound became more distinct, a low level keen of despair and Ratchet automatically opened his arms, his pedes sliding backwards several feet as Sideswipe rocketed into Ratchet’s embrace.

“… I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Sideswipe sobbed, face buried in Ratchet’s shoulder. “I d-didn’t… you weren’t… and J-jazz… it’s all m-my fault!”

“Shhh… absolutely nothing is your fault…” Ratchet said firmly, winding his arms around Sideswipe’s upper back. He gently rocked Sideswipe side to side as best as he could with the height difference, stroking Sideswipe’s nape.

“No, it is!” Sideswipe drew back, coolant tears streaking his cheeks. “I… it was my idea… we grabbed him and made him watch and then sucked him off because I thought it would teach him a lesson but it just made everything worse and now my plating is constantly crawling because someone’s going to tell me to fuck them and I won’t be able to say no and…”

A little taken back at the babbled run-on sentence, Ratchet reached up and cradled the side of Sideswipe’s face, gently shaking it back and forth. Sideswipe trailed off, his engine giving a pitiful hiccup.

“I’m not really understanding what you’re saying, Sides,” Ratchet said ruefully. “But that’s ok, come on in here.”

He sent Hoist a quick comm to let him know that he was only to be disturbed for the direst of emergencies and led Sideswipe into his office. Ratchet bypassed the chairs in front of his desk, instead continuing on to the tiny closet at the far end of the room. He kept a cot in there, the space barely wide enough for it to fit, but adequate for catching quick naps in between patient checks.

Also perfect for sitting down so an overly large and shaking frontliner could try and curl up in Ratchet’s lap.

“You tried to kill Jazz,” Sideswipe said as soon as he had settled, long legs overflowing Ratchet’s thighs.

“Yes… well… I’ve seen you tackle a jet out of the sky because he said something disparaging about Sunstreaker,” Ratchet replied which earned him a hummed noise of assent. Then…

“… you called us your kids…” Sideswipe whispered softly.

Ratchet stroked the back of Sideswipe’s helm, cradling the frontliner’s body against his. Sideswipe was going limp as all the tension slowly left his body. “How did you know that?” Ratchet asked curiously.

“Wheeljack staked out the washracks and showed us a security video when we left,” Sideswipe said.

Smiling, Ratchet made a mental note to thank Wheeljack later. He really didn’t deserve to have such a great best friend, but somehow he had managed it.

“Sorry if that’s being presumptuous…” Ratchet started, but Sideswipe violently shook his head.

“No, no, that’s…” Sideswipe snuggled down further against Ratchet’s chest. “You’re right… you pretty much raised us. Which was why… I’m sorry, Ratch… my head wasn’t in the right place… I know you wouldn’t ever…”

“It’s ok,” Ratchet rushed to say. “Trauma presents itself in interesting ways.”

Sideswipe violently shook his head. “No, it’s_ not_ ok. You’re practically our creator and I thought…”

Ratchet reached down and bodily dragged Sideswipe’s helm up so he could look into Sideswipe’s optics.

“’Practically’. I’m not _actually_ your creator and the two of you spent quite a while on your own before you ever met me. That’s a lot of time to develop basecode-deep lines of reactions regarding threats. I don’t blame you for that. Actually, I blame myself because I missed this. And I missed this happening to you before.”

Sideswipe shook his head, sitting up straighter. “Don’t. Don’t do that. We weren’t even on the same base when it happened the first time. And I’m not sure we would have even told you.”

“I probably would have noticed something wasn’t right, however. I could have helped somehow,” Ratchet countered miserably, his tanks turning. The twins were young; how old had they been when they had first been taken advantage of by an officer? How old had they been as they’d dealt with these feelings of betrayal when they were finally supposed to have been safe from being used again in such a manner?

Sideswipe shrugged, his lips turning up into a wry smile. “It’s in the past, nothing you can do about it now. I’m more concerned about the present… are we… are we good?”

Ratchet stroked his thumb over Sideswipe’s cheek, remembering when twins had been small enough that both of them could fit in his lap comfortably. He never should have gotten as attached to them as he had, especially considering their penchant for getting into trouble. But his spark had quickly decided that they were his, and he hadn’t really fought it all that much.

“Yes, Sides. We’re good. Now, what were you talking about earlier when you first came in? Something about teaching Jazz a lesson?”

Sideswipe shifted his gaze to the side, his frame language the very epitome of ‘guilty’. “… I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

\--

“Do you understand what’ve you done?”

Jazz sighed and rolled his head to the side, staring at his best friend. Prowl was seated on a chair he had brought in from his office, one with a low back to accommodate his sensory panels. He hadn’t said a word when he had first entered the brig, merely settled in and started working on a datapad. Jazz had suffered through Prowl’s silence for nearly three hours now. He’d been very obviously ignored each time Jazz had tentatively tried speaking with him.

He didn’t know what had changed all of a sudden.

“Yeah, Prowler, I know what I did,” Jazz returned wearily.

Prowl raised his chin a fraction, optics turning even colder than they already had been.

“No, Jazz… do you _understand?”_

Jazz raised an orbital ridge. “Not sure what you gettin’ at, Prowl. I shouldn’t have jumped Sideswipe… shouldn’t have used him… I know.”

Prowl placed his data pad in subspace and turned, facing Jazz fully. Jazz braced himself; he thought Optimus’ disappointed expression had been bad. It had nothing on Prowl’s. Prowl, who knew him so well and who had still became his friend. His closest one, the one who knew practically all of Jazz’s secrets and insecurities.

“You abused your rank, intentionally or not. You abused your rank, not just to play a prank on a soldier you’ve commanded, which is bad enough… but you did it via _interfacing_ with a soldier who has apparently been abused his entire life. A soldier who is currently sequestered with Ratchet, experiencing the equivalent of a post-traumatic stress episode.”

Ah. So that’s why Prowl had spoken up when he had. Ratchet had probably reached out to let Prowl know Sideswipe had finally come to someone.

“I am so… _angry_ with you, Jazz,” Prowl continued, his doorwings vibrating with the depth of his emotions. “I’ve always known how dangerous you could be, but what you did was beyond cruel.”

Jazz sighed again and leaned forward, hiding his face in his hands. Turned out that the voice in his head had nothing on the real Prowl.

“The humans say hindsight is 20/20, Prowler. It basically means that when ya look back, you can clearly see all your mistakes and everything ya could have done instead. But I can’t go back in time. I can’t not do what I did. I’m sorry.” Jazz raised his head up, staring into Prowl’s hard gaze. “I’m _sorry_.”

And he was. He regretted every moment of the entire incident, especially now with the information Ratchet had imparted in the emergency meeting.

There was silence for a long moment before Prowl turned away, his fingers twisting together in his lap. His sensory panels arched up high before slowly lowering until they practically dragged down the back of his chair.

“I believe you,” Prowl said quietly. “Despite your experience and your age, you display a discouraging lack of sense at times. Sometimes it’s endearing. Others… infuriating. But ultimately, I know that you did not intentionally mean to hurt Sideswipe. So… what are you going to do to make amends?”

Jazz took in a deep vent before slumping against the wall. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “Should probably start by lettin’ them decide how I do that.”

\--

Plating on his arm still tingling from Wheeljack’s hand, Sunstreaker made his way through the hallways of the Ark, Sideswipe’s distress ringing through their bond. He was with Ratchet though, hopefully receiving a different kind of comfort than Sunstreaker could provide. He’d join them in a bit, but first, he had another stop to make.

He entered the brig, nodding at Hound. The scout seemed somewhat surprised to see him, but it was probably a bit of a shock to see the Autobot’s third in command here in the first place, so Sunstreaker’s presence probably barely registered in comparison.

The brig was empty except for the last cell. There was a chair in front of it, something low backed like one of the Praxians would sit in. Sunstreaker plopped down onto it and stared into the cell, meeting the occupant’s startled gaze.

“Hey, Sunstreaker,” Jazz said hesitantly.

“Hey, Jazz,” Sunstreaker returned, considering the smaller mech. “Who did they get to patch you up?”

Jazz’s hand reached up and he gently felt the medimesh covering the right side of his neck. From the video Wheeljack had given them, Sunstreaker knew Ratchet had torn into the main energon line leading to the processor. It hadn’t been a fatal injury, but severing both lines and leaving the processor without energon for even a short period of time could cause permanent damage. Once again, Sunstreaker briefly reflected on how dangerous a medic could be if torqued enough.

“Hoist. He was a little confused as to why Ratchet didn’t though.”

“Mm. Saw the video. Pretty sure he was going to kill you if the others hadn’t stepped in,” Sunstreaker said conversationally. His spark give a funny little twirl at the thought. People didn’t kill for them. People didn’t try and protect them. They had never been considered worth it.

Until Ratchet, that is.

“Probably a good thing you two aren’t in the same room for a while,” Sunstreaker added with a raised orbital ridge.

“… yeah. Probably… how come you haven’t tried?” Jazz asked, tilting his head to the side curiously.

Sunstreaker shrugged and leaned back in the chair. Some of the rage still simmering in his spark flared up again, but Sunstreaker resolutely squashed it back down. “You mean kill you? Well, firstly, I wouldn’t have just tried; I would have actually accomplished it… and I thought about it. But I saw Sides’ memories. You were an idiot, but you didn’t really understand what you were doing.”

“So ya forgive me?” Jazz asked, a hopeful lilt to his voice.

Sunstreaker snorted in disbelief. “Frag, no. Sideswipe’s currently curled up in Ratchet’s lap, and he doesn’t actually fit there anymore, you know? He hasn’t for a long time and he hasn’t felt the _need_ to for a long time. Until this. Until you. I don’t know if I can _ever_ forgive you for that.”

“Yeah.” Jazz’s gaze dropped to his pedes. “I really am sorry, you know. I was sorry even before I knew some of the things that you two went through before the Autobots. I didn’t mean… I was stupid. What can I do to fix this?”

“Fix this? Ratchet was right – there’s no fixing this,” Sunstreaker replied, matter-of-factly. In the wake of the repressed anger, there was just a weary sort of resignation. “It’s done. We’re not friends any more. We’ll never trust you like we used to.”

Jazz’s visor dimmed. “Yeah. That’s what I thought. I’m sorry,” he repeated.

Silence descended over them, and Sunstreaker studied the side of Jazz’s helm. The other mech’s shoulders were slumped and he practically radiated misery.

Good.

Sunstreaker finally stirred after several minutes of silence. He sat up and gestured to the bars. “I’m going to tell ‘em to let you go, drop the charges against you. It’s dumb to keep you in here. There’s not enough of us on a good day and we need you.”

Jazz’s head shot up in shock. “Sunny, no! I deserve to be punished for what I did to Sideswipe.”

Sunstreaker got to his feet and tapped his chest. “It’s _our_ decision. You _have_ been punished. And you’re going to continue to be punished. Every time you look at Sides, you’re going to remember what you’re feeling right now, aren’t you? Every time you see Ratchet across the rec room or you’re in a meeting with Prowl and Optimus… you’ll feel it,” Sunstreaker said confidently.

“… you’re not wrong,” Jazz murmured, gazing at Sunstreaker with his mouth open in disbelief.

“Good,” Sunstreaker said brusquely. “Because it means that underneath it all, you’re still a good mech. Don’t make me think differently, Jazz. If you ever hurt us like this again, I _will _kill you. Do you understand?”

He stared Jazz down, not caring in the slightest that he was threatening a commanding officer. He honestly thought that he’d been extremely restrained in this whole matter, although dealing with Sideswipe’s roller coaster of emotions over the past few days had taken up most of his processing power.

Jazz nodded slowly. “I understand.”

Sunstreaker took a step towards the exit and then paused before looking over his shoulder. He considered the cell, the plain steel berth, and otherwise stark space. For a mech who always needed to be kept occupied, Sunstreaker was sure this was a special sort of torture.

“Tomorrow. I’ll tell them tomorrow.”

\--

Sideswipe felt his brother coming, muted anger mixing with resignation and just the smallest bit of satisfaction. He opened his optics and trained them on Ratchet’s office door, elbowing the medic in the side when Sunstreaker walked into the ‘Bay.

“Ratchet? Unlock the door for Sunny?” Sideswipe asked, struggling to untangle his legs from Ratchet’s. Ratchet jerked upwards with a snort and then immediately winced, hand going to his lower back.

“Ugh… Primus frag me…” Ratchet muttered.

“It’s your fault,” Sideswipe said, although his hands hovered over Ratchet’s side, not sure how to help. “You’re the one who fell asleep. No surprise, I’m the most awesomest teddy bear, after all. Just ask Sunny.”

“You’re tolerable,” Sunstreaker announced, opening the door and slipping through it. Sideswipe blinked at it, a little surprised as he hadn’t heard the lock disengage. Was he really that out of it still?

Considering how raw his optics felt and how slow his processor was running, apparently so.

“Just tolerable?” Sideswipe asked, holding his arms out. Sunstreaker didn’t even hesitate; he just crawled onto the berth, over Ratchet’s lap and into Sideswipe’s embrace. The two of them sagged down onto the surface, their limbs sprawling out over Ratchet’s frame in a messy tangle.

Ratchet didn’t seem to mind too much although he was giving them the fondly exasperated look that Sideswipe loved.

“Tolerable,” Sunstreaker repeated. He snuggled into Sideswipe, nasal ridge pressed against Sideswipe’s jaw. He was heavy, but it was a good weight, pinning him between Ratchet and Sunstreaker. Sideswipe felt safer than he had in a long while and his engine started up with a raspy purr.

He hadn’t realized how much he missed them snuggling with Ratchet until this whole incident had occurred. Maybe they should do it more often, although without all the trauma provoking it.

“I told Jazz that I was going to ask everyone that he be released tomorrow,” Sunstreaker said quietly after several moments. He stroked down Sideswipe’s back, holding him tighter when Ratchet’s shout make Sideswipe startle.

“What?! Are you joking?” Ratchet demanded, sliding out from underneath the two of them. Sideswipe peered up at him through lowered optic shutters, watching a figurative storm cloud gather on Ratchet’s face.

“No,” Sunstreaker replied. “We, the Autobots… we need him too much. He was thoughtless, but that doesn’t make him an evil mech.”

“He has to be punished!” Ratchet protested. “He violated multiple regulations… Prowl has an entire list!”

“I have no doubt,” Sunstreaker said, the words rumbling up out of him.

Sideswipe squirmed and slid down a little so he could press his audial sensor to his brother’s chest and feel him speaking. He closed his optics and let Sunstreaker handle it. Sideswipe’s version of handling things resulted in them kidnapping an officer and tying him up, forcing him to watch the two of them frag.

How they weren’t in the brig alongside Jazz, Sideswipe would never know.

“And you’re free to punish him by restricting his leaves or off duty hours, but it’s a bad idea to keep him in a jail cell instead of what he does best.”

“What he does best is ruin mechs’ lives!” Ratchet exclaimed. Sideswipe heard a shuffling sound and pictured Ratchet pacing back and forth, hands up thrown up in the air. “Sideswipe, I don’t hear you saying anything – you’re the one this directly affected.”

Sideswipe sighed and rubbed his face against Sunstreaker’s hood. Then he turned his head and opened his optics, staring sleepily at Ratchet.

“Yeah… I am. And we talked about it and came to the decision together,” Sideswipe stated.

“Did you? Or did Sunstreaker suggest it and you’re just going along with it because you don’t want to rock the boat further?” Ratchet snapped.

A growl started up deep within Sunstreaker’s chest, and Sideswipe hurriedly patted his twin’s arm. He sat up, the back of his neck twinging. Sunstreaker sat up too, immediately reaching out and digging beneath the minor plates covering his nape. Sideswipe let out an appreciative murmur as the cable was gradually loosened, never taking his gaze off Ratchet.

“_I_ suggested it, actually,” Sideswipe said. “And yeah. I _don’t _want to rock the boat. Or the Ark, for that matter. He’s a commander… Optimus’ Third. It’s important that everyone can still trust him when it comes to tactical decisions. I don’t want to be responsible for losing the Autobots’ such an experienced soldier. Besides, from what Sunny’s shown me, I don’t think he’ll ever do this again to me or anyone else.”

Ratchet stared at him, mouth agape for several moments. Then he finally shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “That is suspiciously mature for you… especially after…” he said, gesturing at himself and the door. “Did Jazz tell you to say that?”

“There’s no ulterior motives, Ratch. He didn’t threaten us or make us do this,” Sideswipe said quietly. “This is for the best of everyone.”

“But is it the best for you?” Ratchet demanded, striding forward and cupping the side of Sideswipe’s face. Sideswipe leaned into the touch, optic shutters fluttering.

Yeah. They definitely needed more Ratchet cuddles.

Sideswipe forced himself to pull away, gazing up Ratchet with sincere optics. “If this had happened on peacetime Cybertron and I barely knew him… I’d want him locked up forever. But we’re at war, on Earth, and I _do_ know him, at least somewhat. And this is the best solution for the situation.

“I do have some conditions, though. I want to be under his direct command as little as possible and have the majority of my duty shifts with Sunstreaker… Command can handle the rest of the punishments like restricting Jazz’s leaves. You’ll have to make something up as to why Jazz isn’t going on outings like he used to, but other than that, I’d really rather the rest of the crew knew nothing about what happened,” Sideswipe continued.

“… I just…” Ratchet trailed off, looking lost. “How can you…?”

Sideswipe shrugged, accidentally dislodging Sunstreaker’s stroking fingers. He wiggled his shoulders and looking imploringly back at Sunstreaker, who rolled his optics and went back to the impromptu massage.

“I wouldn’t have said this right after it happened… or even a day ago. But after seeing you and all the others react the way you did…” Sideswipe said thoughtfully, “… it restored my faith in you all. It reminded me that we _know_ you… we know Optimus and Prowl and ‘Hide… even Jazz. We’re not all best friends or anything, but there’s a reason we joined the Autobots. There’s a reason we stayed. And a good part of it is all the mechs on that video.”

“But Jazz…” Ratchet protested.

Sideswipe grabbed Ratchet’s flailing hand and tightened his fingers. He tugged slightly, trying to subtly pull Ratchet back onto the berth. Ratchet didn’t get the hint and Sideswipe made an aggravated sound.

“Jazz was dumb. And then we were dumb back,” Sideswipe said, wincing. Giving Jazz a taste of his own medicine certainly hadn’t made things better for Sideswipe’s state of mind. Although at least Jazz would always know what he could have had he only asked. “It kind of cancels each other out.”

“How can the two _ever _cancel each other out? You essentially had a PTSD breakdown just now!” Ratchet exclaimed.

“And Jazz feels like scrap and will feel that way for a while,” Sunstreaker said, finally piping back up. “When it comes down to it, Jazz is essentially a good person; good people will carry guilt like that for a long, long time. You can’t tell me that you don’t still feel guilty for losing mechs on the battlefield millennia ago, can you?”

Ratchet jerked back as if struck. “That… that is completely different!” he protested. “I… don’t compare me to him!”

Sideswipe tugged again. “We’re not. Not really. That was out of your control and what Jazz did was totally under his own power. But the concept of guilt and hoarding it is the same.”

“Are you sure about that? Because some of the things that Jazz does under the Autobot name…”

“I’m sure some of them are terrible; his conscience is pretty flexible, after all. If Prime allowed it, I think Jazz would slip aboard the Nemesis, kill Megatron in his sleep, and wouldn’t feel the slightest bit bad about it. But it also tears him up when one of his mechs are hurt on a mission, or Prowl or Blue lands themselves in Medical. Pit, how many times has he visited _us_ when we were in recovery?” Sunstreaker pointed out. “He does what he does because he cares.”

“He tried to rationalize it...” Ratchet snapped back, looking desperate. “He made it sound like none of it was a big deal and would be an easy fix.”

“Jazz knows better now,” Sideswipe said, recalling the images Sunstreaker had sent him from the brig. “And if he ever forgets, we’re pretty sure you or Prowl or Optimus will remind him.”

“Ratchet… please,” Sunstreaker asked when Ratchet opened his mouth again. “Please… this happened to Sides… to _us_. Can’t you let us choose what happens next?”

Ratchet visibly deflated and this time when Sideswipe tugged, he sank down onto the berth at Sideswipe’s side. “You two have a history of making very bad decisions,” he complained.

Sideswipe leaned into Ratchet and hooked his chin over Ratchet’s shoulder, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “We trusted you. When we were cold and hungry and sore, we trusted you to keep us warm and feed us… to keep us safe when no one had before. I think we’re _awesome_ decision makers.”

Making a wounded sound, Ratchet blindly turned and engulfed Sideswipe in a hug. Sideswipe went happily, one of his hands still laced with his brother’s.

“… fine. Fine, I’ll speak with Prowl and Optimus,” Ratchet said, the words muffled against Sideswipe’s should. “I’m going on the record that I think it’s a bad idea, but you’re right. This isn’t Cybertron and what held there isn’t always going to hold here.

“… and I will remind him on a fragging _daily basis_,” Ratchet growled after a second’s pause.

Sunstreaker pulled on Sideswipe’s arm and he threw himself backwards, taking Ratchet along with him. They ended up scrunched together, Sunstreaker at his back and Ratchet at his front. It was warm and safe and Sideswipe started purring again, calmer than he had been for several days.

He knew where he stood now. He knew Ratchet would always have their backs and probably the rest of Command too. Their relationship with Jazz would be strained, but maybe one day it could be better.

… provided Jazz reined in his stupidity and pettiness, of course.

~ End


End file.
